Dyed Pitch Black
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: Sometimes, you can no longer see the light, that's how far you've gone. But then just a moment later, it burst forth in its radiance…but not enough to stain the dark heart white.


**Author's Notes**

This takes place in episode 21 - _"Total Destruction of 5 Fighters! Terrifying Dark Power"_ (Japanese Sub)/_"Darkness Before Duskmon"_ (English Dub). Short, more a drabble than a oneshot, and nothing else to say, so enjoy, and tell me what you think.

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**Dyed Pitch Black**

Sometimes, you can no longer see the light, that's how far you've gone. But then just a moment later, it burst forth in its radiance…but not enough to stain the dark heart white.

Kouichi K/Koichi & Kouji M/Koji

Rating: T

Genre/s: Angst

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**Dyed Pitch Black**

Fear. Apprehension. Panic. Terror. Dread. They all meant the same thing. A rather unpleasant emotional response to a consciously, or sometimes subconsciously, recognised as a 'real' danger, even when in not all cases was the threat an external reality. But to those whom experienced it, it was a reality for them, and the symptoms showed: the quickening of breath, the increased pounding of the ribs, the tensing of the muscles, the dilation of the pupils, and the panic that clouded all rationale to the point where instinct, powered by adrenaline, dictated their actions.

It littered the air, but he was incapable of feeling it; the deep darkness that constituted his soul made it impossible for him to feel at all. Pain, emotion, they were all foreign to him when one equated knowledge with personal experience. He could sense them, to be sure, but it was not the same. _They _could feel it, and it made them vulnerable to him. It fed the darkness of his existence. Not true darkness, so to speak, but the void of nothingness which absorbed all without allowing even the slightest penetration. The black hole which sucked in all without escape.

He fed it; it fed him. The other, his target, was impaired by it. Almost robotically, the sword came up, tracing the projectile's path with his crimson eyes. Eyes blocked off, clouded by the blackness which dyed his soul. No emotion entered them; it was more a machine than a living creature capable of free will. A mind controlled to the upmost, where the only thought was that which was bidden by another, with the tendrils of darkness that lurked almost unseen serving as the anchor. Pitch black, the tendrils latched, its charcoal colour spreading at its touch to further dye the already covered soul.

There was no light; no mercy, no hesitation...the sword began its downward swing, not exactly uncaring yet without the ability to be otherwise. Eyes squeezed shut, darkness strengthened, sword cut flesh...then the cries echoed. Cries which battered against the wall of darkness like the rain thundering down from the heavens as they finally granted a drought-plagued land its reprieve. Cries, which caused the light to burst forth from its origin as the darkness recoiled, and with it, the void.

Pain, like a haze of sub control, filled his mind as neurons flew at rapid fire pace to carry on the signal. The searing sensation spread like a wayward flame, every nerve of his body alight as the almost foreign emotion wrote itself into his mind, filling the cup of experience as he drank deeply like one deprived despite the anguish it gave.

Other thoughts, unbidden, rushed through his mind as the blackened soul brightened ever so slightly; the tendrils of darkness withdrew the smallest bit as the light was allowed to shine. For a moment, the light shone bright. The radiant white light that burned the black irises as they shifted to accommodate the sudden onslaught, throwing the doors wide open to his darkness coated soul. But then it was clouded over by the very force it attempted to overpower, and the black paint seeped over the marks left by the soft trails of white, and darkness dominated once more.

Too weak...to easily overpowered. In the darkness, he drowned completely, and with the passing of another moment, it was almost as if the experience had never occurred.

But a dull chord struck. And within the dark heart which could not now be called purely black, a small speck of grey remained.

_**The End**_


End file.
